


An Action, Not a Feeling

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Driving, Established Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, F/M, Fluff, Married Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: A collection of ficlets about Romione.Chapter 1: Hermione teaches Ron how to drive.Chapter 2: While at Shell Cottage, Ron longs to return to his friends.Chapter 3: Hermione wakes in the middle of the night needing to pee. Unfortunately, she can't find a match.Chapter 4: Ron wins the lottery, but he and Hermione don't initially see eye to eye on how to spend the money.5: Ron takes a second to admire Hermione.6: Ron and Hermione share a kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve.7: While up late with insomnia, Hermione accidentally wakes Ron.8: When Rose tricks Hugo into freezing his tongue to the shed, Ron and Hermione deal with the aftermath.9: Ron plans a date, but it doesn't go as planned.10: Small moments between Ron and Hermione over the years.





	1. Get into Gear

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: write about someone learning something new

Hermione knew something was up when Ron sat beside her and fiddled with things on her desk without speaking. She laid down her quill and watched him with one eyebrow raised.

“I think I want to learn how to drive,” he said slowly without looking at her.

She knew him well enough that she didn’t express the surprise she felt, knowing it would discourage him and make him insist that he’d known it was a stupid idea all along.

“Okay,” she said instead. “But why exactly, if you can apparate?”

He shrugged, looking sheepishly at her.

“Thought it might be useful someday.”

It wasn’t the entire answer, but it wasn’t a lie either. She knew Ron had fallen into one of his occasional bouts of needing to prove something to himself. They were far less frequent as an adult than they’d been while they were at Hogwarts, but he still sunk into them at times.

“It might,” she said. “We could start tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Ron repeated with a short nod the the head. “Sounds great.”

He was already panicking, but she pretended she didn’t notice.

XXX

The next day was as much a challenge for Hermione as it was for Ron. She had to focus all her energy on staying calm as she let Ron get behind the wheel of her father’s car. Her husband already looked like a nervous wreck, and she had no desire to make that fear worse. It would only make him more likely to make a massive mistake.

There were cushioning charms on both the inside and outside of the car, she reminded herself. She’d put them there herself.

“Now,” she said calmly, “put the car in drive.”

Ron did exactly what she’d shown him, and they shot forward suddenly.

“Brakes!”

Ron obliged her. At least he’d remembered where that pedal was. She’d been adamant about him knowing before she’d let him start the car. She was also thankful that the large car park they were using was otherwise deserted.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ron muttered, breathing heavily. “Bloody hell. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Hermione said.

She realized she was holding a hand against her chest, and she lowered it, trying to gain what she could of her composure back.

“Loads of people do that the first time they hit the gas. Now you know how much pressure you need.”

“Right.”

Ron didn’t sound convince, but he nodded for her anyway.

“Right,” he repeated. “I won’t do it again.”

He did it several more times, but they got there in time.

XXX

Hermione stared at the wall opposite her. She was itching to get work done—that was the only thing that could have distracted her—but the Muggles around her would have found it strange if she started scribbling on parchment with a quill.

Instead, she tried to occupy herself with a small Muggle book she’d bought for the occasion, but she couldn’t get into it no matter how hard she tried. One of the women who worked there kept glancing at her sympathetically, which Hermione found a little sad when she surely saw other family members of future drivers regularly.

When Ron finally appeared, she shot out from her chair, much to the shock of the Muggle two spots down from her, who nearly dropped his phone and gave her a glare she didn’t bother paying attention to.

Ron was smiling, and she felt much of her anxiety dissipate.

“How did it go?” she asked.

He held up the ID card in lieu of an explanation, and Hermione smiled brightly, wrapping him in a hug. A Muggle man, grumpy at being made to wait, scoffed, but neither of them paid him any mind as they linked arms and made their way for the exit.

“Congratulations,” Hermione began to babble. “I knew you could do it, but I was worried you’d get an awful person administering the test.”

Ron shrugged.

“She wasn’t all that bad. Did make me a bit nervous though. Almost forgot to use my indicator at one point, and I thought the whole thing might be over. But,” his posture straightened, “she said I was impressive for a new driver.”

Hermione rose on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Of course you were, dear.”

Ron preened under the compliment.

He approached the car with a bounce in his step, getting in with an enthusiasm he had rarely shown in the past.

“Now you get to see just how great I am,” he said as he buckled his seat belt.

Hermione gave a short laugh.

“Ron, that test was the first time you’d driven without me sitting beside you. I already know what you’re capable of.”

He ignored the comment as he put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking spot without jumping forward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the OTP Boot Camp for Ron/Hermione with the prompt "wanting."

Little happened at Shell Cottage. One of the reasons Fleur and Bill had chosen to live there was its isolation, they’d told Ron a week after he’d arrived, when he had begun getting antsy. With all the work they were doing for the Order, it was better to stay out of the eye of Muggles who might either become curious or attract the attention of Death Eaters.

That same Order work that had led them to choose Shell Cottage often kept them away from home for long periods of time, however, and Ron felt like he was losing his mind as he spent day after day alone in the godforsaken cottage that had begun to feel like a prison.

There was a beach not far from the front door. In other circumstances, perhaps Ron would have found that a nice escape, but as it was, he couldn’t find much happiness in the ocean. It left him feeling uneasy for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint whenever he stood on the edge and looked out over the vast expanse of water.

He’d lost track of how many days it had been since he’d left Harry and Hermione behind. At first, he’d been determined not to keep count, but eventually, he’d grown unable to no matter how hard he tried. Though he had a vague idea of when he’d left, he could no longer remember the exact day. Time had been growing fuzzy before he’d left, and it had only gotten worse since.

So much was wrong with the world. Ron had truly learned that in his time away from his friends. They’d known, of course, that there was a war, but he hadn’t seen the true scope of it until he was at Shell Cottage speaking to Bill and Fleur about what they and the rest of the Order were up to. Part of him hadn’t quite believed it was real before that.

That felt foolish now, but it was the truth. He’d heard terrible stories since showing up at his brother’s, and it had put a lot of things into perspective.

The costs of the war were very real, and he wanted it to end—of course he did—but that wasn’t the wish that occupied his mind the most, the one that kept him up during the night as he desperately wished for sleep.

He deeply regretted things he’d said and done to both of his best friends, but Hermione was the one who haunted his thoughts. With nothing else to pull his mind away, he couldn’t stop thinking about her as the time dragged on.

If there was a way back to them, he’d have taken it in an instant. It would require his pride taking a hit, but then again, it already had. He had to face them eventually; the alternative was far more horrific.

Flicking the Deluminator on and off in his hand, he was startled when he heard Hermione’s voice. At first, he forgot to breathe as he tried to sort out whether it was real or he’d gone mad from loneliness.

But no, it was Hermione’s voice. He would have recognized it anywhere, and he had to believe it was real.

The only thing he had to go on was a hunch, but that was more than he’d had for weeks. Somehow, he knew the light wanted him to follow it, so he did. It was as if the orb was tugging him forward. His want, his need, to see Hermione kept him from questioning whether this was some elaborate, twisted trap.

If there was even the slightest of chances that it would take him back to her, he would take it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes in the middle of the night needing to pee. Unfortunately, she can't find a match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> write fluff  
> match
> 
> Content notice: This story centers around Hermione waking up and needing to pee, so there's talk of bodily functions, if that makes anyone uncomfortable.

Hermione groaned as she rolled away from Ron to face the side of the bed, her bladder protesting as she went. The fog of sleep still enveloped her brain, leaving her with little desire to leave their warm bed, but her bladder was making it impossible to drift back off to sleep.

Her brain won at first, keeping her from rising and immediately taking care of business, but as her bladder protested more and more, she knew it would be the ultimate winner. She blinked her eyes, giving them time to adjust in the darkness. With her brain still struggling, she reached blindly for the lamp on her bedside table.

There was one there, but of course, it wasn’t the electric one she had been expecting in her half asleep state. It was a gas lamp, and she couldn’t remember where they had put the matches with which to light it.

Her hands scrambled over the bedside table’s surface before she began rummaging through its drawer.

She cursed to herself as she found nothing more than a book and some potion phials in the drawer. There was nothing there that would light the lamp.

Ron stirred beside her, and Hermione cringed. In her haste to find a match, she hadn’t considered that she was disturbing him in his sleep.

“Ugh. ‘Mione? What are you doing?”

Hermione rolled over to face her husband, ignoring the protests of her bladder as she went.

“Sorry,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice low despite the pointlessness of the endeavor. “I was trying to find a match.”

Ron’s brow wrinkled as he squinted at her in the darkness. Hermione realized that her eyes had adjusted enough for the lamp to be nearly useless.

“A match? What?”

“To light the lamp,” Hermione said slowly, worrying that she was still too close to sleep for her explanation to be making sense.

Ron watched her for a second before his brow smoothed out and he let out a laugh. It was Hermione’s turn to look at him in confusion.

“Your wand, Hermione,” Ron said, voice lilting upward in amusement. “You can use your wand.”

It took another couple seconds before the meaning of Ron’s words sunk in and Hermione’s cheeks flushed. Not certain that she wanted to illuminate herself in her shame, she nonetheless reached for the exact spot where her wand rested on the nightstand and had the lamp lit in no time with a nonverbal spell.

“Sorry,” she muttered, placing her wand carefully back in its spot on the table.

Ron’s grin turned gentle as he moved closer. She took the opportunity to press her face into his shoulder.

“Would you be Hermione if you didn’t sometimes forget that you're a witch?”

At any other point in time, she would have protested that moments such as these had only happened a handful of times over the years, and most of them had been private, with Hermione the only one who knew they’d happened.

Her bladder was screaming, though, and it was more tempting than ever to stay in bed pressed into Ron’s side. She had to go immediately while she still had the willpower and hadn’t yet wet the bed.

Pushing herself onto her elbows, she placed a quick kiss to Ron’s lips.

“Maybe not,” she lamented. “But sorry for waking you anyway.”

The light from the lamp made Ron’s eyes sparkle as Hermione pulled away, and the fondness she saw in them made her stomach flutter despite the challenges it was facing.

“It’s completely fine,” he said softly. “Hard to complain about more time together.”

Hermione dropped one last kiss to his mouth before admitting.

“I really have to pee.”

Ron erupted into laughter, but Hermione couldn’t afford to linger much longer. She hurried to the bathroom, almost tripping in her haste to get there. She tried and failed to stifle her own giggles as she went.

They were going to have trouble getting back to sleep that night. Perhaps it wasn’t terrible that she’d forgotten about her wand for a few moments. Ron was right; her Muggle childhood had made her who she was. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed of that.


	4. Not So Flimsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron wins the lottery, but he and Hermione don't initially see eye to eye on how to spend the money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> write about someone winning the lottery  
> flimsy

“Ron?” Hermione called as she entered their house.

She sighed with relief as she draped her cloak over its hook inside the door and removed her shoes. It felt good to be home after a long day at the Ministry. In the two years they'd been living in it, Hermione had come to feel more comfortable there than anywhere else.

It had been old when they’d bought it. Even with the aid of magic, the pipes creaked, and strong winds revealed how flimsy the structure was. But the house was theirs, and Hermione loved it. It held a charm similar to the Burrow’s, another place she’d grown to love, and she was thankful they’d found somewhere close to perfect on their budget.

Ron appeared at the other end of the hall, his eyes sparking and his cheeks red with excitement.

“Hermione!”

He rushed forward, pulling her into a crushing hug with little explanation. Hermione stared at him as she pulled away, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Ron waved a piece of parchment in front of her, and Hermione snatched it out of his hands to see what it was.

“A lottery ticket? Since when do you enter the lottery?”

Ron’s smile dimmed.

“Since we left Hogwarts, I guess. Only a few times a year or so. Sometimes I’m at the store, and I figure I might as well try my chances. What if, you know? I never thought I’d actually win though!”

Hermione looked down at the ticket again.

“You’re telling me this is a _winning_ ticket?”

Ron bobbed on his toes like an excited child. Hermione was torn between amusement and bafflement with no idea which emotion had won control of her facial muscles.

“Yes!” Ron wrapped her in another sudden hug, causing Hermione to laugh. “Ten million Galleons! Merlin, Hermione! Think of all that money.”

She laughed with him as he pulled away, finding his excitement contagious. They weren’t starved for money by any means. By all accounts, they were better off than the Weasleys had been for most of Ron’s childhood as they both had steady incomes and only needed to feed themselves. Still, she understood why the thought of a small fortune would have Ron overjoyed.

“That’s brilliant,” she said, reaching up to push his bangs out of his eyes as she handed him back the ticket.

His hair was wild, she noticed, and she wondered how much celebrating he’d done before she arrived.

“It is,” he said, his excitement falling into quiet amazement.

He stared at the ticket clutched in his hand.

“I haven’t gone to claim the reward because I can’t believe it’s real.”

Hermione smiled and went up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

“You have twenty-four hours, don’t you? You can afford to let it sink in a bit.”

He nodded absentmindedly before he began shaking his head instead.

“Think about what we can do with that amount of money, Hermione.”

He glanced around the house.

“We could get out of this place and move somewhere nicer. Maybe we could get a place in London. That way you’d be closer to the Ministry, and I’d be closer to the shop. George already gives me a hard time about being out of the loop because he’s there twenty-four seven and I’m not.”

Hermione frowned and could only speak up with hesitance.

“Move out of this place? Are you serious?”

Ron blinked at her several times, his smile gone.

“Of course I am,” he said. “This place is falling apart. You can’t tell me you don’t want an upgrade.”

“I _can_ tell you that because I don’t. This place certainly isn’t falling apart. We’ve seen to that.”

“Well, okay, yeah. We’ve done the best we can, but with this money, we could get a place that doesn’t need much upkeep.”

“That will grow older until it requires just as much upkeep as this place.”

“I… Maybe, but Hermione…”

She stepped forward, cupping his cheek in her hand.

“I’m never going to complain about an extra five million Galleons, but, Ron, I can’t imagine leaving this place. Ever since we’ve bought it, this is where I’ve imagined our future happening. We chose this place over the others because it had three bedrooms. We bought it imagining our family would be here one day. I don’t want to give up on that.”

Ron deflated, closing his eyes for several seconds, but he grinned when he opened them to look at her again.

“Okay. We’ll stay, but at least let me use the money to renovate. We could add some rooms or replace the kitchen. Something.”

“You know, I wouldn’t say no to a library.”

Ron’s smile widened.

“I’ll build you a library then,” he said. “And maybe we could add a playroom. For later on, you know?”

His ears were turning red just as they always did when he discussed their future children. Hermione tugged him down into a kiss.

“That sounds perfect.”

As they pulled away, Ron launched into detailed plans for repairs he wanted to make with the money as Hermione smiled fondly.


	5. A Second of Appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron takes a second to appreciate Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Ron/Hermione)  
> (words) second, fortunate

Ron put the last of the washed and dried dishes into the cabinet and headed for the living room. He paused in the doorway for a second, taking in the sight before him.

A fire crackled in the grate, making shadows dance across the walls. As it was the only light in the room, everything glowed in the dark orange of cozy winter nights, but the star of the scene was his wife, who sat on the couch beside the fireplace with a fluffy, navy blue blanket draped across her lap and a book open in her hands.

It had been years since Ron had been fortunate enough to receive Hermione’s love, and Ron had grown comfortable in their relationship to an extent he’d never dreamed of as a teenager. While it had once felt incredible that she could love him the same way he loved her, he had long ago accepted that she did. Fears he had once felt that she would leave him when he realized she could do better were gone.

Seeing her cozied up in their couch, in her happy place, was everything Ron had once wished for. The jumper she wore was a Weasley one with an ‘H’ across the front. It was in the same dark purple that his mother had taken to using for all of Hermione’s jumpers. There were loads of them stacked in a drawer in their bedroom, a testament to how long Hermione had been part of his life.

When he was a child, summer had been his favourite season because it meant his older siblings were home from school and would play Quidditch with him. As an adult, he was increasingly fond of winter and the times when Hermione would be bundled up and warm in front of the fire.

He’d been watching her for too long to go unnoticed. She glanced at him, a smile spreading across her face that Ron couldn’t help but return. She held out her hand, beckoning him to join her on the couch, and an invisible string pulled him towards her. He wouldn’t have dared pull against it.


	6. A New Year's Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione share a kiss on New Year's Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone out there can appreciate a New Year's ficlet nearly three weeks after New Year's.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (words) alcoholic, frigid  
> (colour) thistle  
> Write about kissing at midnight on New Year's Eve.

Hermione watched the people around her and tried not to feel just a little judgmental. It wasn’t so much that she felt they were lesser because they were enjoying the party; it was more that she didn’t want to be there and was becoming progressively more grumpy about it.

When George had first raised the idea of a New Year’s party, she’d been sceptical. Such things were a celebration of a new year, but she couldn’t forget what the last year had brought: war, the deaths of many they loved. Part of her still felt guilty at the prospect of having fun, and parties had never been her first choice for how to spend her time as it was. The idea of spending the last evening of the year curled up with a book in front of the fire at home that would make her forget about the frigid air outside had sounded far more appealing.

But Harry and Ron had been more excited about the party than she was, and after the year they’d had, she also didn’t want to spend the night alone. So, she felt she’d had little choice in the end. That didn’t stop her bed from calling to her and telling her that she could face the new year in the morning.

Ron pushed through the crowd, and Hermione didn’t have to fake the smile that broke across her lips. In his hand was a glass of a thistle-coloured liquid that looked more like a potion than a drink. Hermione eyed it distrustfully as Ron settled beside her, draping his arm over her shoulders.

“What is that?”

Ron held up the glass as if he were seeing it for the first time just like she was. He tilted the glass back and forth as if it made a difference. Hermione supposed it could have been a thick juice of some kind, though she had no idea of a fruit or a vegetable of that colour.

“I don’t know,” Ron admitted. “But it’s strong.”

He held out the glass towards Hermione, and she got a whiff of the familiar stench that made her cringe. It was definitely alcoholic and very unlikely to be a potion. 

“If that’s what else they’re serving, I’m glad I chose my butterbeer,” she said, motioning at the bottle she’d more or less abandoned on the table beside her. Ron shrugged, taking a sip of the drink and cringing as it his his throat. Hermione’s frown deepened. She’d never understand the appeal.

“Only half an hour until midnight,” Ron remarked, his arm tightening across her shoulders. “Our first midnight kiss.”

Hermione smirked at the way Ron averted his eyes and tilted the glass again to try to disguise his nerves over saying the words out loud. Hermione leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek, unable to stop smiling as she did so. He looked at her, grinning ear to ear.

That was one aspect of the last year Hermione hadn’t been reflecting on like she should have been. They’d lost so much, but she’d gained a couple things to, the greatest of which was knowing Ron in an entirely new way. A kiss at midnight hadn’t even crossed her mind, which left her a little guilty. She placed her hand on Ron’s knee and snuggled closer.

If she could spend the rest of the party like that, then she was more than happy to stay. If there was only one thing on earth that she’d choose over cuddling up with a good book, it was cuddling up with Ron. 

He stayed at her side of the rest of the party, sharing sweet words about what he hoped the coming year would bring. Blushing frequently until Hermione kissed it away.

When the countdown started, Hermione felt anticipation tighten her stomach as if she’d never kissed Ron before. Right at midnight, their lips met, and Hermione sunk into the kiss, hoping more than ever that it was a signal of the year to come. Because if it was, she knew it would be a good one.


	7. Icy Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While up late with insomnia, Hermione accidentally wakes Ron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (words) ice, gullible  
> (colour) tea green  
> Write about someone suffering with insomnia.

Hermione stared out the window, not able to see much except the moonlight reflecting off the ice-covered branches on the other side of the glass. She felt the winter air in her bones because of her refusal to light a fire. Shivering, she pulled her magically warmed tea green robe tighter around her middle.

A sound from the hall made her turn her head seconds before Ron appeared in the doorway. She sighed at the sight of him, hair disheveled and eyes blinking in an attempt to wake up further. The lack of a fire had been one of her many attempts not to wake him, but that had failed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as if there were still a chance of her waking him. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Your side of the bed was cold,” Ron said, voice lilting upwards as if asking a question.

He came further into the room, brow furrowed. Settling beside her on the couch, he pulled her against his side. Hermione came easily; his body like a furnace against hers. Just that was enough to make her eyes flutter shut, but it didn’t calm her restless brain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Hermione ran her fingers over the soft fleece of her robe. She still didn’t want to light a fire. It was an admission of defeat, a sign that she had accepted being awake.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past week,” she admitted.

Ron’s frown deepened, and he placed a kiss to her forehead.

“When I asked why you were so tired lately, you kept saying it was a busy day at work. Guess that makes me pretty gullible. I didn’t know you weren’t sleeping, and we share a bed.”

Hermione placed her hand on his thigh and her head against his shoulder.

“You’re not,” she said, stressing the words. “I didn’t want you to know because I knew you’d worry. There was no use ruining your sleep too.”

When he didn’t respond, she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. He reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair, gently undoing a few knots that had worked their way into it during the restlessness of the night.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked.

Hermione sighed, her shoulders relaxing as he continued to play with her hair.

“It’s the anti-discrimination legislation I proposed,” she admitted. “The one that protects everyone of being status. Ficklebottom has been putting up a fight. He doesn’t like the idea of vampires, as just one example, going out and applying to work at St Mungo’s. He thinks they’d do it just to get patients’ blood and that the hospital would have to hire them because of the law.”

She settled against Ron’s shoulder again, her eyes focusing on the ice-covered branches as she spoke.

“He’s been spreading ideas like that to anyone who will listen and even to some people who won’t. When I said work had been long, I wasn’t lying. Every day, it’s like I’m running after him trying to correct misinformation or point out flaws in his arguments. It’s common sense that if any employee, vampire or not, is stealing patients’ blood, that’s grounds for firing them. That doesn’t mean a vampire isn’t worthy of a chance if they have medical knowledge and experience. It’s so frustrating that people can’t understand that.”

Ron hummed in agreement.

“If there’s one person who can bring people around, it’s you, Hermione. Everyone knows that you’ve done everything you can.”

Hermione smiled at the compliment, though she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. This was the most ambitious legislation she’d dared to propose since starting work in the Department of Magical for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She’d faced plenty of opposition as it was technically out of her line of responsibility, dealing more with magical beings than with the creatures who were meant to be her focus. But, as Hermione was keen on reminding others at the Ministry, no one had ever seen fit to create a department devoted to the needs of magical beings. Only the creatures.

“Would you like a sleeping draught?” Ron muttered into her hair before placing a kiss there.

Hermione frowned.

“I haven’t wanted to take it,” she said. “I get worried that I won’t be able to wake up in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure you’re up,” Ron promised.

Hermione nodded, smiling gently at him before letting him pull her to her feet. She followed him back to their room with her hand in his, feeling far calmer than she had minutes before. And has sleep finally overtook her, she was grateful.


	8. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rose tricks Hugo into freezing his tongue to the shed, Ron and Hermione deal with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (words) snow, wintry  
> Write about someone being humiliated.  
> (colour) gunmetal  
> (dialogue) "Erm...oops?"

Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest as she hurried through the snow towards the sound of commotion, Ron a step in front of her. The Weasley cousins were gathered around the side of the shed, most laughing at whatever, or whoever, was in the middle. Only Victoire and Teddy looked panicked, watching the adults with wide eyes as they approached.

Ron broke through the crowd to reach Hugo seconds before Hermione did. His tongue was stuck to the gunmetal-coloured surface of the shed as he made various attempts at yelling, none of them coming out quite as he’d like. Hermione watched Ron tug out his wand and perform a brief spell, freeing Hugo only to have the boy burst into tears. As he collapsed into Ron’s arms, Hermione turned towards the children, most of them now scarily quiet as they stared up about her.

“What happened?” she asked, crossing her arms against her chest.

The silence hung in the air, but Hermione quickly zeroed in on her daughter. Rose was fidgeting more than the other kids, and when James reached out to poke at her back, she glared at him but didn’t otherwise accuse him or the others of being the masterminds behind Hugo’s predicament.

“It was just supposed to be a joke,” Rose said, looking at the ground. “His tongue wasn’t supposed to actually get stuck to the metal.”

“You didn’t think his tongue would get stuck to metal in this kind of weather?” Hermione asked, motioning at the wintry skies. Flurries were still coming down around them, dusting the children with flakes.

Rose merely shrugged in response, looking up at her mother for the first time.

“Erm… oops?”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she did something she would regret later.

“Let’s go,” she said, making Rose cringe.

“But it’s only two,” Rose whined as Hermione began ushering her back towards the Burrow. 

“I don’t care what time it is,” Hermione shot back, looking over her shoulder to see Ron following them with a still distraught Hugo in tow. “We’re going home right now, and that’s not my fault. Get a move on.”

Rose went, grumbling the whole way about how she shouldn’t be punished for something that was an accident.

* * *

The silence of their house was broken the second they tumbled through the fireplace. Hugo’s sobs were only drowned out by Rose’s loud and insistent protests over the idea of being punished.

“Rose,” Ron said in a low voice that nonetheless quieted Rose instantly, “go to your room. We’ll discuss your punishment later.”

Rose obeyed, stomping her feet up the stairs and muttering, “Going to my room is a punishment. Discuss it later. Sure.”

Hermione rubbed at her forehead. She was already dreading that talk, but Hugo’s cries were impossible to ignore at the moment. Though he was physically fine, the shock of it all had been too much. He clung to Ron’s robes in a desperate plea not to be sat down.

“It’s all right,” Ron said softly, bouncing Hugo up and down and patting his back.

Hugo babbled back hardly distinguishable words about his cousins laughing at him. Ron’s frown deepened, prompting Hermione to step forward and place a hand against his back as she did the same for Hugo.

“Your cousins love you,” she said, pressing a kiss to the back of Hugo’s head. “They wanted to have fun, and they didn’t do it in a good way. But they love you.”

Hugo lifted his head from Ron’s chest just far enough to glare at her. His eyes were rimmed in red.

“And they’ll be told off by their parents,” Ron said, “so on the bright side, you’re the only one not getting punished today.”

Hermione pinched him in the side, but the words earned a giggle from Hugo, who squirmed to be put down. Ron obeyed, and they watched as Hugo, cheeks still stained from his tears, toddled upstairs to go play by himself.

Hermione watched him go with a frown.

“I can’t believe she did that,” she said. “And all of his cousins laughing at him. He’ll start thinking poorly of himself.”

Ron shrugged before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “There were plenty of times I got laughed at as a kid. I reckon Hugo has it easy in comparison. Rose is no Fred and George.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Ron’s arms tightened around her, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She wrapped her own arms around his waist too, taking it all in.


	9. Finicky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron plans a date, but it doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (words) finicky, submerge  
> Write about a note being misunderstood because of messy handwriting.  
> (dialogue) "Did you really just throw a snowball at me?"  
> Write about people going on a date.

Ron had never considered himself a finicky person, but as he looked at the picnic blanket spread in front of him, laden with food, he kept finding things to change. The picnic basket should be in the middle. No, off to the side where he could serve Hermione instead of her doing the work for herself.

Had he given them a large enough blanket? Perhaps a different one would be better. The red plaid might have been too Christmas-y for January.

He took a deep breath, trying to force himself to feel satisfied before he popped a blood vessel from the stress of it all. It was a mere date, and not even a significant one at that. He’d merely asked Hermione to a picnic behind the Burrow, nothing fancy. He didn’t actually think she’d care about the pattern on the blanket.

Glancing at his watch, he noticed that it was five minutes after his note had asked for Hermione to come outside. He bit at the inside of his lip, wondering where she was. A glance back at the Burrow, small in the distance, showed that she was nowhere in sight.

He let ten minutes past before he let his anxiety overcome his patience. Hermione wasn’t someone to be late. He took one last glance at his setup, deciding it would be fine if left unintended.

Stepping outside the confines of his warming spell, he was immediately submerged in cold air. He hurried back to the house, his heart hammering as the possibilities of why Hermione might not have come ran through his mind.

He was so singularly focused on reaching the house that he didn’t notice his sister was outside until a clump of snow hit the back of his head, much of it falling into his robes and making him squirm.

Ginny was smirking when he turned to face her, still yelping as the snow fell further and further down.

“Did you really just throw a snowball at me?” he yelled. “Are we five?”

Ginny’s smile fell as she saw the look on Ron’s face.

“What’s up with you?” she asked. “You were fine just a few hours ago.”

Ron’s cheeks burned despite the persistent cold. The last thing he wanted was for his shame to to be known to his little sister, but his discomfort seemed to be enough to clue her in eventually.

“I planned a picnic for me and Hermione, but she didn’t come.”

Ginny’s eyes widened.

“The picnic? Hermione said that you gave her a note, but she said it was tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ron repeated, brow furrowed in confusion.

He couldn’t figure it out, but then it dawned on him: If Hermione thought it was tomorrow, that was why she hadn’t come. She hadn’t stood him up in purpose.

Turning on his heel without explanation, he ran into the house and up the staircase. There was a moment of hesitation before he knocked on the door. In his chest, his heart pounded as he waited for Hermione to respond.

She pulled the door open with a slight smile on her lips, and Ron’s heart skipped a beat in spite of the situation. As soon as she saw his frazzled demeanor, however, her smile fell.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Ron knew his ears were still red from embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking at a spot on the floor instead of at her.

“I think there was a bit of a mix up. I was waiting for you outside, and on my way back inside, I ran into Ginny.”

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

“The date?” she asked, though she didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m so sorry. I swore the note said tomorrow.”

Ron laughed, trying to brush off his own embarrassment.

“It’s not your fault.”

After a second of thought, Hermione reached out and clasped his hand.

“Is everything still outside?”

Ron nodded, and Hermione didn’t say anything more as she began leading him downstairs. She only paused for a moment at the back door to don her cloak.

* * *

It felt warmer outside when Hermione’s hand was in his. Ron’s cheeks were still red by the time they reached the picnic he’d laid out, a result of both the cold and his self-consciousness. When they entered the boundaries of the warming charm, Hermione sighed from relief. Her mouth was open slightly as she looked around at the food Ron had gathered, all of it protected by various spells as it sat on the blanket.

“You did all this?” Hermione asked quietly, her hand tightening around his.

“Yes, some of it,” Ron replied, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “I spent the afternoon putting the food together, but Mum helped out.”

That confession didn’t dull Hermione’s smile. She pushed herself onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Letting go of his hand, she settled down on the blanket and patted the spot beside her. Ron didn’t hesitate to follow.


	10. Little Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small moments between Ron and Hermione over the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited.
> 
> Prompts:  
> Write a romance.  
> Write about people cuddling.  
> (words) confrontation, calculator

Hermione had put on her largest, warmest jumper, yet the chill of the Gryffindor common room penetrated it easily. Even the blanket she’d draped across her lap for extra protection seemed to do nothing.

There was little more she hated than cold, though she tried to disguise it as best as she could.

With the Yule Ball and the Triwizard Tournament, there was much to distract her from the weather that winter, but in the quiet moments when she was trying to brush up on her mathematics skills, it was as apparent as always.

She was so preoccupied by the cold and the equations in front of her that she didn’t notice Ron until he was sitting beside her.

“What is that?” he asked as if he were appalled, pointing at the simple Muggle calculator she’d been using.

“A calculator.” She held it out for him to take and watched as he turned it over in his hand slowly. “You do math with it.”

Ron’s brow was furrowed. Gently, Hermione took the calculator from him and typed in a simple problem: 2 + 2. She hit the “=“ button and couldn’t help but smile at the shocked look on Ron’s face when “4” appeared on the small screen.

“Amazing,” he said quietly, staring at the calculator as if it were the real magic. “Wish I’d had this thing when Mum was quizzing me on my tables.”

Hermione giggled, her coldness forgotten as she and Ron continued to plug random problems into the tiny machine.

* * *

Hermione looked back over the letter she’d spent the last hour writing to Viktor. It was becoming increasingly difficult to write to him. She didn’t like recounting all of the terrible things Umbridge was doing at Hogwarts, and she couldn’t share anything about the Order or You-Know-Who. What she was able to share felt stilted, but if Viktor noticed, he didn’t let on in his responses.

Ron settled down across from her, and Hermione acted quickly to conceal the letter, suddenly self-conscious, though she knew she shouldn’t be.

Her worries about Ron seeing the letter were quickly stifled, however, when she saw what he held in his hands.

“For you,” he said, holding the mug of hot chocolate out to her. “You looked cold.”

She shivered at the reminder of the chill even as she sat in front of the fireplace. Part of her wanted to reject the hot chocolate and remind Ron not to give the house elves more work, but she was too touched by the gesture to give that much thought as she took it from him.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling before taking a sip and letting it warm her.

Carefully, she stowed the letter back in her bag before Ron saw it.

* * *

Hermione stared at her book, willing her brain to process the words across the page. She’d been looking at the same spot for nearly half an hour, but she couldn’t have explained what it said. She was hyper aware of Ron and Lavender on the other side of the common room.

Though Hermione refused to glance their way, she could make out enough from the corner of her eye to know they were in each other’s arms. Her frown deepened as Lavender’s giggle pierced the air, rising over the voices of the other students. Hermione rose the book closer to her face as if it would make a difference.

They’d felt so close to actually admitting their feelings. That was what made it so frustrating, she told herself. She wasn’t just petty.

She refocused her eyes, rereading the same sentence again. This time she made it to the next one.

* * *

Hermione sat on the far side of the tent away from Ron. Her blood was still boiling after their confrontation. She couldn’t believe he was back after months. He’d been holed up in Shell Cottage, and though she’d been dismissive of his relative comfort when yelling at him, she couldn’t deny the relief she felt knowing that he’d been safe. Her mind had gone over the worst possible scenarios with him gone, and she struggled to believe he was real.

Her eyes kept flickering to him of their own accord, and he noticed every time, making her blush as she turned her eyes resolutely back to her book. Even as she tried to read, though, she felt his eyes on her, and she couldn’t concentrate despite knowing that information she found could be useful in defeating You-Know-Who.

Frustration reaching a tipping point, she lifted her eyes to glare at Ron, hoping to scare him off, but he smiled even as he glanced away. Hermione sighed as she went back to the book, biting her lip to keep her own smile from breaking through.

* * *

Hermione nuzzled into Ron’s chest, relishing the warmth he provided as they cuddled together under the blanket. The fire across from them was nice, but having Ron close was the real winner. She couldn’t believe that she was finally lucky enough to have him close.

“Winter used to be my least favourite season,” she mused, playing with Ron’s fingers in her lap. “I think I need to reevaluate.”

“Really,” he said into her hair. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Why would that be?”

She shrugged.

“Something about it is just better now,” she said, pushing herself closer.

He laughed, leaning down to press a kiss against her cheek, and Hermione beamed back. Yes, winter felt very different now.


	11. Puzzled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione doesn't know how to make all of wizarding Britain happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (pairing) Ron/Hermione  
> (genre) family  
> (words) assume, puzzled  
> Write about someone being in pain.  
> Write a kid fic.

Hermione listened to Ms Popplewell talk, scribbling notes on her parchment for later reference. The current situation in the Department of Magical Transportation had grown untenable, and it needed to be fixed immediately. The problem was that no oneーincluding herselfーhad any idea what to do.

Her personal secretary appeared at her side, slipping her a small piece of parchment with a small smile that Hermione returned before he disappeared again.

Unfolding the note, her heart rate sped up.

Your husband called. He’s taken Rose to St Mungo’s. They think it’s a ruptured appendix. She might need surgery.

Hermione’s mind raced. Glancing around the table, she couldn’t figure out how to alert the others to what she’d just read. They were deep in their discussions and hadn’t noticed the alarm in her eyes or her white knuckles as she gripped the parchment.

“I, um…” 

Everyone turned to look at her, prompting her to clear her throat. While she was always confident in meetings, being the Minister after all, the note had shaken her. She didn’t know how to navigate this kind of situation.

“I’ve gotten a message from my husband. My daughter’s sick.”

“And?” Mr Hemsworth asked, raising one eyebrow. 

He was the most insufferable of the Ministry employees gathered around the table, but he’d been with the Ministry for so long that many just assumed his opinion was worth a lot.

“This is important, Minister,” he continued. “Failing to find a resolution within the next several days could be disastrous. Surely your husband is capable of handling your children on his own. That’s all he does, isn’t it? Child rearing?”

Hermione swallowed. Most days it was easy to snap a correction at Hemsworth, but the situation at the Ministry had been difficult for months, and she was the one easiest to blame for everything that had gone wrong. The knowledge that something was wrong with Rose was the last straw, and Hermione felt like she’d lost her ability to navigate situations effectively.

“You’re right,” she said. Laying the note on the table, she clenched her hands in her lap to disguise the shaking. “I’m sorry for the interruption. Where were we?”

* * *

Minister for Magic Hermione Granger: Horrible Mother?

The Prophet headline mocked Hermione from where the paper laid in front of her on the kitchen table. Hermione raised her tea to her lips, eyes scanning the article as she drank. Perhaps it should have surprised her that someone had tipped off a reporter to Rose being at St Mungo’s, but she was more preoccupied by the fact they had dedicated an entire article to Hermione not showing up before the surgery.

She’d been there by the time Rose woke up, but that detail hadn’t made it into the story. Even if it had, it wouldn’t have made her feel better.

Ron moves the paper off the table and placed a a plate loaded with bacon, eggs, and toast in front of her.

“No use worrying over this drivel,” he said, tossing the paper into the garbage bin without a second glance.

Hermione’s gaze lingered on the bin before she took a bite of her eggs. She was more puzzled by the article than she was upset.

“I just don’t understand,” she said slowly, “How can they assume I’m a terrible mother from one incident? There’s no way I could have won here. I bet Hemsworth will read that article and pretend he wasn’t the one who held me back from going. He’ll be dropping hints about how I’m incapable of handling my life as if I could have carefully planned out a ruptured appendix to better fit my schedule.”

Ron pulled out the chair beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” she snapped at him. “I chose to stay at work instead of go to the hospital.”

“I was angry at first when you didn’t show up,” he admitted. “But then you explained about Hemsworth, and you looked so terrified when you arrived that I couldn’t stay angry with you. Anyway, Rose is fine now, isn’t she? Or at least she will be in a week or so when she’s entirely recovered from the surgery.”

Rose was okay. When she’d woken up after the surgery and seen Hermione, she’d smiled. Hermione had never been more impressed with her daughter than she was in that moment.

“I’m going to check on her,” she said suddenly, pushing her half eaten plate away from her.

She hurried up the stairs, entering Rose’s room after a light knock. The girl was just stirring in her bed, blinking at Hermione as her eyes adjusted to the morning sun streaming in through the window.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked as she perched herself on Rose’s bed and brushed some hair from her eyes.

Rose groaned in response, and Hermione’s heart tightened.

“It hurts a little, Mummy.”

Rose’s hand reached out for Hermione, and Hermione took it. Using her other hand, she summoned a vial from the potions cabinet down the hall and offered it to Rose, making sure she didn’t spill as she swallowed the pain-killing potion. Rose collapsed against her pillows when she finished, sighing in relief.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there before the surgery,” Hermione said.

Rose raised an eyebrow.

“It’s okay, Mummy. Daddy said you had important things to do.”

“That’s right,” Ron said from the doorway, making Hermione jump. “Lots of conceited idiots to please.”

He smirked as he sat beside Hermione on the edge of the bed, ruffling Rose’s hair and earning a giggle from her. Hermione sighed but couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she leaned back into Ron’s chest. Everyone would be all right, and that was all she could ask for.


End file.
